Quake (28 page)

    'She had a thing for Pete,' Barbara explained.

    'Maybe she didn't see us.'

    'But what if she did? And then, on top of that, Lee won't… sleep with her.'

    'She just lost her marbles and I had to shoot her,' Earl said. 'That's all there is to it. She went nuts. Doesn't make any sense to blame anybody but her.'

    'Maybe not,' Barbara muttered. 'God, I don't know.'

    'What should we do about all this?' Pete asked.

    'Nothing,' Earl said. 'Let's just get out of here. Get the rifle, Barbara.'

    'I don't want it.'

    'Shit. I'll get it.' He stepped toward the end of the coffee table. 'Just don't shoot me, Pete. You aren't gonna shoot me if go for it, are you?'

    'You aren't gonna try and shoot us, are you?' Pete asked.

    'Gimme a break.’

    'So we can't testify.'

    'Are you kidding? I'm gonna want you to testify. You can tell 'em how it was self-defense.'

    'Yeah,' Pete said.

    'It was self-defense,' Earl said, and picked up the rifle. 'No telling who she was gonna shoot next. I had to put her down. It was her or us. Isn't that so, Banner?'

    'I guess so. Yeah.'

    'Okay. Okay. Now let's take whatever we need and get the hell out of here.'

    'Take what?' Barbara asked, frowning.

    'The ammo, for starters. And anything else we want.'

    'We can't steal from him.'

    'If you think we're walking outa here without the guns and ammo, you're crazier than Heather.'

    'I'm not a thief,' she said.

    'You don't have to be. Leave it to me and Pete. Anyhow, it isn't really stealing - he's dead.'

    'It's still stealing.'

    'Right, sure. Screw that. You and your morals, Banner. If you weren't such a damn prude, Lee'd be balling you right now in the other room instead of lying here with his brains on the floor. And Heather'd still be alive.'

    'Oh, suddenly now it is my fault?'

    'Not saying it's your fault. Just saying none of it would've hit the fan if you'd done what I said and let him fuck you.'

    'Go to hell.'

    'Leave her alone,' Pete said. 'You had no business trying to push her into something like that in the first place.'

    'He was gonna go for it.'

    'We didn't need a gun that badly.'

    'Oh, no? You might just be singing a different tune, Pizza face, if we get out there and run into trouble. Anyway, we've got 'em now. No thanks to Banner. Now, let's get what we need and hit the road. Startin' to stink in here.'

***

    He'd made Sheila call out that they should go away, that she was fine and didn't need help and wanted to be left alone. But they had come, anyway. Two men and a woman. Earlier, Stanley had warned Sheila about 'oddballs' and 'creepy types' he'd seen roaming the neighborhood. It had been a lie to keep her from shouting for help. But these three fit the bill perfectly. Too perfectly. They are real, aren't they? he wondered. I might be nuts, but don't hallucinate. They've gotta be real, he told himself as he watched their approach from his hiding place in the rubble. Not only could he see them, but he could hear them: their voices, the crunch of their footsteps, the heavy breathing of the big guy. He could smell the woman's cigarette. If that wasn't enough to prove they weren't some sort of phantoms concocted by his imagination, he'd heard Sheila calling to them, answering them, telling them to go away. So she was aware of them, too; they had to be real. Unless I'm imagining all of this, Stanley thought including Sheila. The notion made him smile. Then it sent a chill through him. What was that story?

    An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge. Shit. This better be nothing like that! It's not, he told himself. This is real. I know what's real and what isn't. If this isn't real, he thought, when did it stop being real. Maybe I never got out of my house - the quake brought the place down on top of me and I'm out of this stuff, none of it, everything's been in my head. Or maybe I'm still asleep by the pool over at the Benson place - in which case the early stuff really happened but this about coming back to Sheila is only a dream, and…

    'Watch out,' Sheila called. 'There's a guy named Stan. He was just here a few minutes ago. Do you see him?'

    He ducked as the three strangers raised their heads and scanned the area.

    'We don't see nobody,' one of the men said. 'You included. Where are ya?'

    'Make sure Stan isn't around. I don't think he's too stable. He… he cut me on purpose. That's why I screamed like I did.'

    'Don't look like he stuck around for us,' the same guy said.

    'Can't say blame him,' said the woman who was with the men. 'Where are you?'

    'Follow my voice.’

    'Keep talking.'

    Stanley raised himself enough to see past the side of the pile. The three were walking slowly through the debris, side by side but spread out.

    'I'm down through a hole in the floor,' Sheila said.

    They were making their way through what was left of Sheila's kitchen, so it wouldn't be long before they found her. When she sees what they look like, Stanley thought, she'll wish she'd kept her mouth shut in the first place. The big one looked like a grizzly bear masquerading as an outlaw biker. He wore a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt and sagging blue jeans. A great, hairy loaf of fat hung out below the bottom of his T-shirt. In spite of his size, hair and filth, however, he didn't seem nearly as strange as his smaller friend. That one was hairless. From what Stanley could see, he didn't even have eyebrows. He wore high, black leather boots and black leather pants. Instead of a belt, he had rusty strands of barbed wire wrapped around his waist. He wore no shirt. His skin was dead white, and his tiny eyes looked pink. What fucking rock did he crawl out from under? Stanley wondered. While the big one lumbered through the ruins of the house, the smaller one walked lightly and fluidly as if he were performing some sort of slow, weird ballet. He made Stanley's skin crawl. The gal looked skinny and mean. She might've been as bald as the spook a few days ago, but now her scalp was a sloping field of black stubble. Her eyebrows looked like black, upturned slashes. Her small eyes seemed to crowd the sides of her nose. Her thin, sneering lips pinched a cigarette. Her chin came to a point. She's not so bad, Stanley thought, and smiled. Just get rid of the head, she's fine. Drooping from shoulder straps was a gray tank top that ended at her midriff. She had a good, dark tan. Her breasts weren't much larger than tennis balls, but they had a nice bounce to them when she moved, and Stanley liked how her nipples pushed out against her shirt. The shirt was cut off just below her ribcage. She looked flat and sleek below it. She had a golden ring in her belly button. Her jeans hung very low, and she didn't wear a belt - barbed wire or otherwise. They'll tug right down, Stanley thought.

    He watched her, and she was the one who found Sheila. 'Over here, boys.' Squatting down, she tossed her cigarette aside. 'Fine time to take a bath,' she said. It sounded like a complaint, not a quip. Turning her head, she called, 'You boys are in for a treat.'

    They came up on each side of her.

    'Hey, now,' the big one said. 'Ain't this a pretty picture?'

    'Will you help me get out?' Sheila asked. Stanley thought she sounded a bit tense.

    'That's what we're here for,' the man said. 'Why else'd we be here, if it wasn't to help?'

    'Go on and climb down there, Crash,' the woman said. 'Give her a hand.'

    'You bet.' Before he could move, the hairless one clapped a hand on his shoulder.

    'What's the hurry? Know what mean?'

    'Please,' Sheila said. 'Help me. I can't get out. I've been down here ever since the quake. These two beams… I just can't get out from under them.'

    'What's your name?' the hairless one asked.

    'Sheila. Sheila Banner.'

    He squatted by the edge, and grinned down at her. 'Sheila,' he said. 'Sheeee-lah. I'm Eagle. My big buddy here, he's Crash. Our main bitch here, she's Weed.’

    Fucking freaks, Stanley thought.

    'Nice to meet you,' he heard Sheila say. '

    Why are you down there?' Eagle asked her.

    'The quake.'

    'But why?'

    'I… thought the tub would save me.'

    'Did it?'

    'Yeah. I think so. I didn't get crushed.'

    'But you're trapped.'

    'Yes.'

    'Why?'

    'What do you mean?'

    'Delve.'

    Sheila was silent for a few moments. Then she said, 'I just need someone to help me get out of here. Please.'

    'Is it a punishment?' Eagle asked her.

    'What?'

    'A punishment being visited upon you.'

    'No!'

    'It's gotta be,' Weed chimed in. 'Everything happens for a reason. '

    'And,' said Eagle, 'the punishment always fits the crime.'

    'Always,' added Weed. 'It's karma.'

    'Okay,' Sheila said. 'This probably is a punishment. You're absolutely right.' She sounded wonderfully calm. She's trying to humor them, Stanley thought, and smiled.

    'But maybe it's time for my punishment to end,' she suggested. 'I've been down here a long time. I'm… really sore. I hurt all over. And look at my leg. Look what he did to it. He did that with his saw. Like my leg was a board. You know? That's when I screamed. So don't you think all that's enough, and you can help me get out now?'

    'That would all depend,' Eagle said. 'On what?'

    'The nature of your offenses.'

    'Gotta confess 'em,' Weed said.

    'Confess,' Crash said as he sidestepped, probably hoping for a better view. He bent over and picked up the saw that Stanley had left behind for the strangers to find. Then he sat down where Stanley himself had preferred to sit - above the foot of the tub. Can't see her twat from there, Stanley thought. But she's probably got it covered with a hand, anyhow. Probably has her tits covered, too. She isn't gonna give freebies to these three freaks.

    'If I confess,' Sheila asked, 'you'll help me get out?'

    'If you're deserving,' Eagle told her.

    'What do you want me to say?’

    'The truth.'

    'You know why you're there,' Weed pointed out.

    'Sure I know!'

    Temper, temper, Stanley thought.

    And Sheila shouted, 'The goddamn earth shook like hell and the goddamn house fell down, that's why! Wrong time, wrong place, that's why. It's what I get for living in L.A., that's why.'

    'That's not why,' said Eagle. His voice was slick, oily. 'Tell us the truth.'

    'Start!' she suddenly shouted. 'You oughta get over here, Stan! You'll love these jerks - they're as buggy as you are!'

    'We're here to save you,' Weed explained.

    'Then do it!'

    'You haven't confessed yet,' Eagle said. 'If I confess, you'll get me out?'

    'If you don't, all hope is gone.'

    'Okay. Okay. It's gotta be poetic justice, right? Some sort of payback that got me pinned in the tub?'

    Eagle's strange, white head bobbed up and down. He continued to squat by the break in the floor, but Weed - on the side of him closer to Stanley - sat down and lowered her legs over the edge.

    'Tell us,' she said. 'We're all ears.'

    Something about that made Crash chuckle, but he didn't say anything.

    'Okay,' Sheila said again.

    Stanley wished he could see her, gaze down at her wonderful body, watch her face as she tried to con these three weirdos into helping her. But he couldn't see Sheila at all. From where he crouched, he had a great view of Crash's broad back and maybe half the face - all black, greasy hair and beard. Over Crash's left shoulder, he could see Weed and Eagle in profile. He wished he could see them better. But he liked knowing that they couldn't see him - not without turning their heads.

    'I'm trapped,' Sheila said, 'to punish me for being too independent. Okay? I like my freedom too much. I never allow myself to be restrained from doing whatever I want to do. Even if it means going against the wishes of other people, people who want to hold me down.'

    'You're held down now, aren't you?' Weed said. She was nodding, rocking back and forth, hands on her knees. 'Really held down.'

    'That's right.'

    'No good,' Eagle said. 'You don't get punished for being independent.'

    'Sure you do,' Weed objected.

    His hand flashed sideways. The back of it struck Weed's cheek. Stanley heard the sound of a clap, and saw her flinch. Yes! 'What'd you hit her for?' Sheila demanded.

    'You got a problem with it?’

    'Yes!'

    The back of his hand smacked Weed's face again. 'Damn it!'

    'Just shut the fuck up down there,' Weed said. 'I'll jump on ya.'

    'Give us something else, Sheee-lah. Tell us why you're being punished.'

    She was silent for a few moments. Then she said, 'I wouldn't have the foggiest idea.'

    'Betcha I know why,' Crash said. He hoisted the saw like a kid eager to be called on in class.

    'Don't tell,' Weed said. 'She's gotta figure it out for herself.'

    'What's wrong with you people?'

    'Nothing wrong with us,' Eagle told her. 'You're the one stuck in a bathtub.'

    'You want us to set you free, don't you?' Weed asked.

    'My God,' Sheila blasted. 'People are supposed to pull together in times of crisis. Help each other. All I'm getting are a bunch of sadistic lunatics!'

    'What goes around comes around,' Eagle told her.

    'It's your karma,' Weed added.

    'My karma's just fine, thanks. Why don't you all just get out of here and take a flying leap!'

    Stanley wanted to laugh, wanted to clap, but he only allowed himself a grin.

    'You don't want us to leave,' Weed said.

    'I want you to get one of these beams off me, but you keep playing your stupid games.'

    'We only want the truth from you,' Eagle explained. 'As soon as hear the truth, I'll let Crash jump down with the saw and set you free.'

    'Just confess,' Weed told her.

    'Yeah,' said Crash. 'I wanta cut ya loose, but you gotta play along.'

    'Okay.' A few moments passed. 'Okay,' Sheila said again. 'We're looking for… my biggest sin, is that it?'

    'Sin has nothing to do with it,' Eagle said. 'Sin is mythical nonsense.'

    'You're full of it,' Sheila said.

    Eagle grabbed up a handful of debris, stretched out his ann, and let go. As his hand opened, Stanley saw dust, grit, a few chunks of stucco or plaster, and a small triangle of broken glass fall out.

    'Hey!' Sheila gasped.

    'Confess,' said Eagle.

    'What am I supposed to confess?' she blurted. 'If it can't be a sin…'

    'How about if we torture it out of her?' Crash suggested. 'If she won't cooperate…'

    'Pride!' Sheila cried out. 'My pride! That's what put me here! "Pride goeth before a fall," right?'

    'Go on,' Eagle said.

    'I take too much pride in my appearance. I tell myself that I'm more attractive than anyone else. And I work on it. When I should be doing other things. I could be… don't know, doing something useful. Like helping others, instead, I concentrate on my body. I run, I work out with weights, admire myself in mirrors, my body. Pride. It's too much pride. That's why I'm punished.'

    'Good,' Eagle said. 'Very good. Go on.'

    'That's it. What do you…?'

    'Explain the justice of your punishment.'

    'Isn't that obvious?'

    'Tell us.'

    'I'm stuck here naked. Where everyone who comes gets a chance to inspect this body I'm so proud of.'

    'Very insightful,' Eagle said.

    'And where everyone who comes along gets a chance to damage it.'

    'Yes?'

    'And where all my muscles aren't doing me any good at all, and all my beauty is working against me because the creep who comes down the pike only wants to mess with me instead of help. Except maybe for that one guy, Ben, who pulled a disappearing act.'

    'Yes?'

    'Isn't that enough?'

    While Eagle seemed to be thinking, he asked, 'How come you got naked?'

    'I don't take baths with my clothes on.'

    'Oh. Me neither.'

    'You don't take baths,' Weed told him.

    He laughed, then said, 'Yeah, I do.'

    'You don't smell like it.'

    'How about sawing me out of here, now?' Sheila asked. 'I did what you wanted.'